Classic Poem

I.

" Oh where's that fount, whose cleansing ray
" Would wash this little orb away?
" That seems, as if by dread command,
" To linger on this little hand.
" I've dipp'd it in the Ocean's stream,
" When fairies hail the lunar beam;
" And when the sun-light gilds each wave,
" In Ocean's breast my hand I 'd lave;
" But not the dark sea's shining spray
" Would wash this little orb away. "

II.

Thus spoke a child; while passing by,
A friar heard the infant sigh,
" Look up, look up, my boy, " he cried;
" Show me thy hand — alas! no tide
" That rolls on Ocean's foamy strand,
" Will cleanse this white and little hand,
" And vain you seek the shining spray,
" To wash this little orb away.

III.

" Know, boy, that you must heedless roam
" Among those rocks, where Ocean's foam,
" When wintry winds blow wild and strong,
" Is cast the rugged rocks among;
" Pronounce these words, they're few and brief,
" Clear written on this Missal's leaf;
" Then, dip your hand within the spray,
" 'Twill wash the little orb away. "

IV.

" Thanks, " cried the boy, and off he flew,
Nor bade the friar once adieu.
Some months roll'd on, he left his home,
And, thoughtless, rov'd where Ocean's foam
Had been in eddies treasur'd long
Amidst the rocks that rose so strong, —
He read the leaf, and bless'd the spray
That wash'd the little orb away.